


Things That Might Have Been

by OllyJay



Series: Things That Might Have Been [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Anti-PFF, F/M, Secret Santa 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: Jack shares an intimate tale with Phryne... but the result is not quite what he expected.





	Things That Might Have Been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olderbynow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olderbynow/gifts).



> Merry Christmas olderbynow - this is a little something I like to think of as anti-PFF. I hope you enjoy it... but if you don't, please feel free to just lie and say you did. ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> PS If there is an original thought in this, I'll eat the hat I'm not wearing - LOL

Phryne sprayed the fragrance in the air above her, spinning gracefully to allow its delicate tones to settle around her. She checked her hair and makeup one last time. Perfect. Everything was perfect. And everything was going to continue being perfect because she finally had Detective Inspector Jack Robinson exactly where she wanted him. Having spent years systematically breaking down his defences under a constant bombardment of sexual innuendo, banter and flirtation he was now in her boudoir. And they were going to make love - wild, passionate, magnificent love and everything was going to be perfect.

Meanwhile, in said boudoir, it would be true to say Jack was feeling more like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter. He had a terrible feeling about this whole operation, it started in the pit of his stomach and was working its way to the very tips of his fingers and toes. After all these years of skilful avoidance he had literally run out of reasons not to sleep with her and so here he was. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, that would be a ridiculous thing to say, she was the most attractive woman he had ever met. It was more that, if anything, she was overwhelming, he thought as she wafted into the room on a cloud of fragrance that tickled at his sensitive nose.

 

_Authors Note: City South, late in the evening, only the two detectives are present._

Sitting in his office reading through a pile of files, Phryne shot a glance at the handsome, intelligent and capable man in front of her. It was a matter of growing frustration to her that nothing she tried ever seemed to tempt him to become anything more than a colleague and friend. He looked up and caught her watching him. He smiled. Her heart skipped. Damn him for making her want him so much. It wasn’t like she had held back in respect of other ‘adventures’, it was just... the sad truth was that none of them were him. She had tried jealousy, making no effort to censor her many entanglements with other men, but that seemed merely to confirm his belief that they were incompatible. Likewise, an attempt at chastity - a state which was completely unnatural to her and thus resulted in a degree of unhappiness for anyone in a twenty foot radius - was further proof apparently that they were not suited. A frown formed as she reviewed this seemingly unsolvable puzzle.

“Is something wrong?” his voice was full of concern.

She threw the file in her hand roughly on the desk and picked up another. “No. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, “You don’t need to stay. I can wrap this up on my own.”

She threw the new file on his desk just as roughly. “Thank you, Jack - it’s always nice to hear that you are completely surplus to requirements.”

He looked at her confused. “You’re always surplus to requirements but that doesn’t mean you aren’t useful to have around.”

She stared at him, hard. “You actually can’t see any problem with what you just said, can you?”

He looked at her helplessly. She gave up and reached for another file. His hand shot out to enclose hers, holding it gently. “Phryne, is there something wrong? With us?”

She blinked, perhaps he was not as immune as she thought. “It’s just… doesn’t it ever bother you, Jack?” He tilted his head, inviting her to explain. “The whole, never being anything more than friends?”

He released her hand and sat back in his chair. “Ah.”

“Don’t you ever think about it? About us?” she demanded.

He looked at her over steepled hands, contemplating. She waited, with a patience she didn’t feel. They had never talked about this before and now it seemed they were about to. She promised herself that regardless of what he said, no matter how disappointed she was, they would remain friends. He was far too important to lose. Jack, having come to a decision, gathered up the files on his desk, swinging round to place them in his filing cabinet which he locked. Reaching into his drawer he brought out the whiskey and two glasses. “Off the clock, Miss Fisher?” he asked, waiting for her to nod before he poured a good measure into each glass. He stood to shut his office door, placing her drink in front of her as he passed.

When he had returned to his chair he picked up his glass and gazed at the amber liquid it contained. “Do you know why it doesn’t bother me?” he asked without looking at her. She shook her head. “Because I know exactly how it would go.” She blinked. “It would be awkward, likely embarrassing for all parties and ultimately unsatisfying.” She started to protest but he shook his head to stop her. “Our friendship, the expectations that have built between us, the way a single glance from you can set my pulse racing… this could never live up to the sordid reality of sex. I am, and will remain, an inexperienced man. You are an unattainable exotically physical being. There is no way I could do anything but disappoint you.”

She tried again to refute his statement but he held his finger up to his lips. “I’ll prove it, I can tell you exactly what would happen. Would you like me to?” She nodded, captivated - any chance to listen to him talk at length was an almost unbearable pleasure. “Imagine then, that we are in your boudoir...

 

_Author’s Note: You should imagine the picture starting to wobble accompanied by a sound not dissimilar to someone shaking a large piece of cardboard._

Phryne smiled at the obviously nervous man in front of her. “Jack, relax.” She stepped in close to him, “Would you like me to help you take off your jacket?” She placed her hands on his lapels and looked up into his eyes, enjoying the way her proximity made him swallow, hard. It was incredibly arousing to know that she was having such an obvious effect on him. She undid the buttons of his jacket, slipping her hands underneath it, up to his shoulders and eased it off him, letting it fall to the floor.

Jack tried not to think about the fact that his best jacket was now lying crumpled on the ground.

She could tell the exact moment when his mind drifted off the task at hand and she redoubled her seduction to bring him back, pushing her body hard against him - maybe a bit too hard as he went stumbling back. Too much of a gentleman to reach out to steady himself on her, he clumsily fell against the corner of her dresser.

“Shit,” he exclaimed as he rubbed the back of his leg.

She had never really looked at his thighs before and only now noticed how overdeveloped they were; she quickly re-focussed on his face - after all no one was perfect. “Sorry,” she said, placing a hand on his arm, drawing him back towards her.

He allowed her to pull him forwards, determined to see this through - even though his leg was still smarting. He hoped she would come up with something to take his mind off it.

She turned around, looking coquettishly at him over her shoulder. “Why don’t you undo my dress, Jack?”

He looked at the construction of the dress, trying to work out how the fastenings worked. After a while, he had no option but to admit defeat. “I can't see what to do.”

“There's a series of clasps, down the middle.”

He looked closer. “Really? They're well hidden.”

“That's the point,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice; he was a detective for goodness sake - clearly it was fortunate that clasps were not in the habit of committing crimes.

She reached back to show him where the clasps were but by the time he had fumbled his way through it, with no small amount of unerotic pinching, the mood was far from sensual. She tried desperately to think of a way to heat things up again. Perhaps, she thought, a little striptease would do the trick? She turned around slowly, clasping the dress to her bosom. “Take a seat, Jack.”

He looked around, confused. She rolled her eyes, had he always been this clueless? “On the bed, Jack - sit on the bed.”

“Oh, yes - sorry,” he mumbled as he sat down rather inelegantly.

Phryne began to sway to music only she could hear. As garment after garment was slowly removed Jack began to think it might actually work out. She was beautiful, she seemed to want him and the increasing tightness in his trousers was making it obvious that he wanted her too, very much. She came to stand naked between his legs, smiling as she undid his waistcoat buttons, then undid his shirt buttons, then undid the buttons of his union suit… until finally she reached his skin. With a sense of relief she pushed his braces down and helped him shuck off all his layers. And there he was at last - a half naked Jack Robinson.

She was so excited at this success she pushed him rather roughly onto his back, kissing him in an equally ungentle manner. The ridiculous size of his thighs was making it uncomfortable to straddle him so Phryne moved to place one of her legs between his. Unfortunately, at exactly the wrong moment - his tolerance to the perfume ended, he jerked into a sneeze causing her to lose her balance and her knee landed quite forcibly between his legs. She sprung off him immediately but only just in time to avoid his instinctive curling up to cup his testicles. She stood, staring at him horrified as she waited for him to recover. She didn’t bother to ask if he was alright - he clearly wasn’t.

When she was reasonably confident he would be able to process her words she started to speak. “Jack, I am so awfully sorry. This has never happened to me before.” Considering the number of random men she had slept with, this was something of an achievement.

“It’s fine, Phryne - it’s not you, it’s me,” Jack managed gallantly.

She nodded, that was clearly the case. “Shall we admit defeat?” she asked.

A relieved Jack nodded and scuttled to the edge of the bed, grabbing his clothes. With each layer he put on he began to feel more like himself, more under control. Eventually he was able to stand and feeling almost completely like a competent Detective Inspector he spoke to the bedroom wall, “Nothing needs to change, we can go back to solving murders like before.”

Behind him he heard her murmur in agreement, “Yes, I think we can make that work.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Good, I think it would be best if I walk out of here now, we forget this happened and agree to never speak of it again.”

“Agreed. Until the next murder, then?”

“Yes, Miss Fisher. Good day to you.”

 

_Author’s Note: Do that cardboard thing again._

Jack, his tale of mishap finished, sat back and waited for her to speak. He had to admit the smile on her face was slightly off-putting and entirely unexpected.

“Well, that’s just brilliant, Jack!”

He tilted his head, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Firstly, can I just say how delighted I am to find you have been giving the idea of us being romantically involved so much thought..”

His jaw dropped.

“...Also, I’m glad you mentioned the perfume thing,” she thought for a moment, “Really, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t work that out myself - I’ll start investigations into something more subtle immediately.” She glanced at her watch, “And if I leave now, I’m sure I can get to House of Fleuri before they close…”

“What? Why?”

“To discuss changes to certain key parts of my wardrobe obviously,” she looked up to her right in thought, “or perhaps I should just get some new items? And, I must speak to Mr Butler about the correct manner in which to ensure your clothes aren’t rumpled - or perhaps you should just bring spare clothes with you.” She gave him a grin, “Yes, that would be easier - bring at least two spare sets, I intend to ravish you more than once.”

“Phryne, can I just check - were you listening to me at all?”

She looked at him shocked, “Of course I was and it was pure genius for you to bring it up like this.”

He shook his head, “I somehow feel you’ve missed the point.”

“Oh, are you worried about the thighs?” she asked, eyes full of concern, “I’ve seen your thighs, that day at Queenscliff, and they are as delicious as the rest of you. I don’t know who told you otherwise but they are wrong.”

Jack’s only possible reaction to this was to go bright red, so wisely, he kept to the script.

She stood up, moved round to his side of the desk, bent down and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Wardlow, seven o’clock tomorrow night. Food, drinks and entertainment will be provided. You just need to bring your spare clothes - leave everything else to me. First times are always awkward,” she gave him a wink, “I should know, I specialise in them. But of course this won’t be our first time - not now. You clever, clever man.”

After she had gone Jack remained motionless at his desk doing a fantastic impression of a stunned mullet. He had always been aware of her ability to take onboard only what she wanted to hear but this was beyond the pale. Something told him it was time to just give up.

So he did.


End file.
